Pokemon: Fall of an Empire

20 Years Ago

“Sir, you have to wear something presentable. Jeans and a jacket really help your trainer image, but they aren’t very becoming of a political figurehead.”

The secretary held out a very casual suit, obviously in hope that it’s lack of flair would appeal to him, but Red sat motionless in the dressing room, chin resting on interlocked fingers as he examined his reflection. She sighed, seeing as he wasn’t going to be putting it on, and crossed her arms.

“At least change your jeans. You still have dirt from Mt. Silver on them.”

He allowed himself to look, inwardly scoffing at the miniscule stain. He had taken care not to get dirty the last trip, she should be thankful for that. He was a trainer, heart and soul, not a model, and wanted to be treated as such. If they ridiculed him for a few specs of dirt, than they are ridiculing the one who conquered al three Pokémon leagues.

And disbanded Team Rocket, Magma, Aqua, and Plasma. And easily dominated the Battle Frontier. And became the world’s greatest coordinator.

All at age 11.

At what point did arrogance become simple acceptance of talent? He had never once failed anything. Never lost a contest, never lost a battle, and has succeeded in capturing every single Pokémon he had ever attempted to. Perhaps it was arrogance to assume that he was better at making public relations than the leaders of the four global superpower governments who had reluctantly agreed to assist him in making his visions a reality.

But at this point, he had to admit to himself, there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t be.

“My current outfit will be sufficient,” He said simply, “I appreciate the help you are offering, but I believe that they will need to see me as a trainer above all else.”

She sighed. “You will be making your speech in ten minutes.” She turned, and went to exit the room, but stopped at the door.

“Good luck kid. You’re going to need it for what you are going for.”

Red let an arrogant smirk slip on his face.

“Luck is for people who can’t control their own destiny.”

***

He walked through the marble halls of Kanto’s capital building, a storm of attendants swarming around him, offering him water and a last minute touch of make-up, all of which he declined. He was young, not fragile. He was perfectly capable of going days without water, and had. He could go one speech. One particular voice amongst the squabble of voices caught his attention.

“Green hasn’t shown up yet, shall we postpone the speech?”

“If Green isn’t here on time, it’s because he doesn’t want to be,” he replied, making his first response to that crowd.

Green was the only one who has ever come close to beating him at anything, and had made him fight tooth and nail for some victories, there is nothing that could ever stop that guy. An army and 10,000 miles could stand between him and the speech, with seconds left, and Red would feel sorry for the army.

As if on cue, he turned a corner to find his rival waiting for him, standing before the doors that led to his podium.

“Late, as always,” Green mocked as he approached.

“Unannounced, as always,” Red shot back, and the two shared a knowing smile.

Green pivoted, falling in step with Red, shoulder to shoulder, blasting open the doors with him in unison.

Sunlight and an endless amount of flashes flooded the senses of the two eleven year olds, but they fought the urge to cover their eyes and pressed on. Red stood at the podium, facing a crowd of ten million. He felt a wave of nausea, until he met eyes with Green, who glared at him.

Red glared back. This was why he had him here. Green was more intimidating than any crowd could hope to be, and re-addressing the crowd, he laughed internally at how, even for a fleeting moment, he was scared of speaking to a crowd. He adjusted his microphone.

“One can only address a crowd this large,” He began, quieting the crowd significantly, “with promises of a better future, with tidings of good news, or perhaps a vision of the future. If I had to choose between them, I would classify this as the third. However, I believe it is first important to understand why.

“Throughout my adventures, I saw a lot of the world. I began my adventure at the young age of eight, not something I’d suggest,” There was chuckling from that, “but you could say I grew up with my eyes open to the world around me.

“Quite honestly, it sucks.”

There was dead silence. At least he knew he had their attention.

“I collected thirty two badges, some from people who hardly qualify as trainers, and were incapable of evolving a Pidgeotto. You’re one job is to train Pokémon, and you get a hefty government salary for it, and yet you still can’t get a Geodude to evolve? Go home, and think about your life. I beat all three elite four, never loosing a single team member? You are supposed to be the most elite in the world, the ultimate challenge, and you can’t beat a ten year old’s Pikachu? Give me a break.

“Meanwhile, there are trainers I have met, truly frightening, talented trainers, who have beaten half my team, and I’ve actually had to use my core team to beat them, more than I’ve even considered using against any gym leader or elite four member. These individuals, they actually know what it means to be a trainer, and some, with the proper tools, could accomplish what I did with little to no issues. However, they are left to wonder the regions, because there is no place for them.

“Of course, we are so obsessed with our ‘Pokemon League’, which takes approximately a third of our tax dollars, that we can’t see this. Anyone who earns all eight badges from a region, thousands every year, can compete, and the winner can challenge the elite four, and than attempt to dethrone the champion, usually someone who still hasn’t managed to evolve a Dratini. One that, in all honesty, would be easy picking for any of the criminal syndicates out there.

“Team Aqua, Magma, Rocket, Plasma, these were the largest ones I have disbanded in my travels. It really didn’t take that much, they were really just a bunch of scared delinquents that wanted to change the world or make a reasonable living that put food on the table. They were flocking towards the people who they thought could make it happen. Big surprise, when I knocked down the figurehead, they scattered.

“This world is garbage. We have no structure, and live in a world where crime is one of the only sure fire ways to gain an income, short of becoming a gym leader, which is a life time gig, so thirty two people in a lifetime have that opportunity, and than usually get it from their parents.

“So lets change it.

“There were at least thirty two trainers I’ve encountered who were capable of beating head Rocket members, and at the very least eight trainers who could be considered the most elite of the elite. These are the individuals that people can flock to.”

At this point, Red hesitated, letting that hang while he pulled out a deck of cards.

“For those of you who can’t see, I am holding a deck of cards, which will represent the future I propose. Kanto, Jhoto, Hoenn, Sinnoh. Four regions, four suits. Each suit has twelve cards and an ace. Every region will have eight gym leaders and four elite four, and a champion. This deck of cards represents the International Pokémon League, also known as the IPL. It will act, independent of government, and yet enforcing their every rule. They will be granted legal rights to place criminals under arrest, act without a search warrant, and have permission to take part in the Pokémon League Tournament, which will feature the current most powerful trainers and an elimination tournament once every five years.

“Of course, with such grand freedoms, we cannot let just anyone be a part of this. The champion of the region will be in charge of policing not only their respective elite four, but also the other three champions. They will also hand-select the elite four from the most outstanding gym leaders. The elite four will than be in charge of policing the gym leaders, who will also go through a rigorous selection process overseen by at least four established members of the league. Gym leaders will have to prove their battling capabilities, pass extensive background checks, and must prove that they deserve to represent everything that we stand for. They will work day and night to teach the untaught, train the untrained, and bring order to the unorderly.

“The road there won’t be easy, but something has to change. The four governments you are most likely to hail from all already agree to my plans, if you, the people, go home and fill out a ballet, agreeing. However, in the future, once we have mastered the system, I see no reason why we cannot reach out to Kalos, Almia, or even Orre. They are smaller regions, but they are also our neighbors. With every region we add, you would only become more safe, and one day, a day you might see, we might be that much closer to a unified world, forever free from border squabbles, and where war is a concept of the past!”

There was a deafening cheer, and he turned, exiting the stage with Green.

“I wouldn’t expect any less of you,” his rival said.

“Glad to hear it. But know this, only one of us will be a champion, assuming all this goes through.”

“Naturally.”

There was a silence between them. There was the obvious choice of them being champions of other regions, but they both knew that was the last thing the other would suggest. Beyond having two eleven year olds from Kanto representing nearly half the known world, there was the more pressing issue.

Only one of them could be the best.

10 Years Ago

“Roger!”

The lone woman fought through the sandstorm, continually crying out the same name. She cursed, feeling a tug on the rope that was around her waist, the only thing that connected her back to civilization, indicating that she couldn’t go any farther without loosing her way back. She turned to see a large humanoid shape looming over her, it’s details blurred by the sand that was passing by her goggles. However she immediately knew what it was, and couldn’t believe how unlucky she was.

Of everything in the desert, why did she have to run into a Cacturn?

She immediately jumped to the side as the creature pounced at her, but gasped as she felt one of it’s needles slash into her shoulder. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sand filled her mouth and cut, causing immense pain and discomfort.

However, the cactus Pokemon continued it’s assault, sending a wave of needles at her. She immediately moved to cover her eyes, knowing fully well that it wouldn’t help in the slightest.

Instead of hundreds of sharp pains however, she felt a searing heat that threatened to weld her outfit to her skin, one that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Gathering her courage, she poked her head up to see a smoldering Cacturn, being overlooked by an eleven year old girl who was standing next to a Torkal. Despite her petite body, she seamed to stand taller than most adults she had ever seen, not at all put off by the desert storm. She and her father were the only two that were capable of navigating the rough terrain, and were easily the two strongest trainers in the town.

“Flanary!” She cried in relief, coughing at the sand that flew into her mouth.

“Go back to the city Mary,” She said easily, ignoring the sand assaulting her mouth or perhaps somehow preventing it altogether. “I’ll find Roger, you just head back to Lavaridge.”

“I’m not leaving you out here!” She argued, throwing herself into a fit of coughs.

“Your not fit for the desert,” The teen responded apologetically, “You’ll only get in my way. Go back to your class, my dad is worried sick.”

The woman hung her head in defeat. She hated that a little girl had to do this alone, but than again, she was the gym leader’s daughter. On top of that, she had practically grown up in this desert. She got up and followed the rope back to the tree that she had tied it too, outside the desert.

---

Flanary smiled as Mary left. She now had free reign to go all out against whatever she encountered, without worrying about protecting her as well. With that she took off deeper into the desert, trusting her internal compass to guide her through the ever changing landscape.

She encountered little trouble, nothing but a few Sandshrews and Baltoys that were taken out with incredible ease. However, as she did a sweep of the desert, she began to worry when she found no little boy.

However, as minutes grew into hours, she began to grow desperate. She was running low on water, and her Pokemon were getting a little tired, especially after a nasty ambush set up by some Sandslash.

Eventually she sat down to rethink her strategy, her Slugma keeping a careful watch on the desert behind her.

After only a moment of stopping however, there was a particularly strong gust of wind, and slugma was sent spiraling through the air. She recalled him, simultaneously releasing her Cumbusken and Magmar, only to have them defeated in the same way.

A shadow appeared through the sandstorm, quickly approaching. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, but guessing it was what had beaten half her team in a matter of seconds, it was undoubtedly something she didn’t want angry.

That was, of course, assuming it wasn’t already.

The shadow stopped, and for a few seconds, they only stared at one another. Figuring that it was a good sign she was still alive, she slowly moved forward, releasing a sigh of relief when the shape didn’t move.

When she got close enough to make out what the creature was, she could only gasp. In all her trips into the desert, she had only heard stories of the beast, the spirit of the desert.

Flygon

She froze as she considered her options. All she knew about it was from stories. Some told of it guiding travelers from the desert, while others spelled out untold horrors for any it meets, and there were endless stories that were somewhere in between. Whatever was true, it hadn’t killed her, and was allowing an approach. However, it had removed most of her team from the picture, probably to show it wasn’t to be trifled with. Or perhaps to make sure she would listen?

She kept striding forward, getting close enough to make out its sickly green color. It was staring directly at her, its compound eyes unmoving as it appraised every inch of her. She shifted nervously under its gaze, was she wrong to approach it after all?

In a single motion the dragon grabbed her with its tail and placed her on it’s back, taking off at what felt like mach speed. The harshness of the sand assaulting every inch of showing skin nearly threw her off, but seeing as they were at least thirty feet in the air, it seemed like a lesser punishment.

After a few minutes of this torture, the desert spirit nosedived, nearly throwing her off with the sudden increase of speed. In an instant, it was over.

Still atop her steed, she was overlooking a sand pit that had dozens of Trapinch, with a few Vibravarba (She had only seen one before!) moving between them to help care for the young. The dragon nodded towards the center, where she was shocked to find a small six year old boy playing with a Trapinch. She had seen him a few times, but never really talked to him.

Roger was tall and rather skinny for his age, but she knew better than to assume he was weak. He spent most of his time rock-climbing, the most common pass time in Lavaridge. Anyone who spent time on said activity quickly learned it was one of the most physically demanding activities possible, and those who grew up doing it made city folk look comparatively weak.

She dismounted Flygon, making her way to the center of the sand pit, giving the boy a giant hug, which he protested fiercely, shouting about cooties.

“Your mom was worried sick!” She scolded as soon as she broke away, “Why didn’t you stay with the rest of your classmates on the field trip?”

The boy smiled.

“Click got lost, so I brought him home!”

“Click?” She than looked at the Trapinch he was playing with, who was staring at the boy with admiration. It opened its mouth and let out a series of clicks that she’d never heard from a Pokemon before.

So, a Trapinch wandered out of the desert, and he brought it back, got picked up by Flygon, and than the dragon had brought her to bring him home. So many things could have gone wrong, she felt light headed just thinking about it.

However, she had to admit, the kid was different. What kind of kid, especially a kid who grew up knowing it’s dangers, wandered into the desert to save a Trapinch, without telling anyone first?

Flygon then made a noise, bending down to allow access to its back.

“Come on Roger,” She called, “It’s time to go home.”

“Can Click come?” He asked, and she glanced at Flygon who, surprisingly, nodded.

“Yes,” She said, “Bring Click, but you have to come now. Your mom is waiting.”

Minutes later, faster than she could have hoped, they emerged from the desert, to find a crowd waiting for them. Most of their expressions were that of total awe, Flygon was believed to be a myth by some, and it was most likely the first and last time anyone would ever see one. Even her father, a seasoned Gym leader, was speechless.

“ROGER!” the boy’s mom screamed, rushing to him as he climbed off the Pokémon. Flannery followed close behind, walking to her dad.

“Don’t turn away, just yet,” He advised when she approached, and she turned to see Flygon nuzzling Trapinch before flying back into the storm. The little Pokémon than hobbled towards Roger, who hugged him happily.

“Mommy, look what Click’s mommy gave me!” the boy shouted, holding up a baseball sized object.

Flannery gasped. “Is that-“

Her father nodded. “A Ruby.”